A Troubled Heart
by DemonCatWithASpork
Summary: I walked in to find him in tears.  Some don't realize how sad Valentine's Day can be.


He stood staring out of my bedroom window, staring even though the sun reflecting off the newly fallen snow was blinding. His hair was in slight disarray since he had only just gotten out of bed, but he did not notice, nor did he seem to care which worried me.

It was too quiet but I knew better than to be the one to break the silence. 'Let him come to you,' I thought to myself, so I just kept working, and waiting. Silence was the only difference and my bustling to and fro did not have any effect on Grell's grave countenance. I never left my room for more than a few minutes and then I would be back again hoping—praying that my friend was all right. Once, I accidentally stabbed myself with a thumbtack while I was rearranging the pictures on my wall,

"You okay?" he asked, but did not move.

"Yeah, just a small cut."

Well at least he was not so far gone as to be unaware of my presence, but even as I came up beside him to lay a hand on his shoulder, the contact still made him jump ever so slightly. Another abnormality even for this reaper. He turned toward me, but could only manage a grimace. I knew Grell understood the concern in my face but he simply shook his head and went back to staring out the window.

Grell has only been around here for a few months yet in that time he has become one of my closest friends. He still goes to work periodically and still gets into trouble, the silly thing. Nothing is dreamy or romantic about it and there is not one single thing wrong with that. Companions and nothing more. A shoulder to lean on. A hug when it is cold. Someone to share hot cocoa with after you have frozen your ass off shoveling snow from the driveway for the hundredth time.

Never had I seen him so down. Not even when he was assigned to take my dying father's soul but a few weeks ago was he so distressed, and believe me Grell was not happy with that task purely out of fear that I would hold a grudge. Yes, I said fear. Did you know that even the death gods experience that feeling now and then? Only Undertaker was able to make Grell see reason in that I would never hold a grudge against him for merely doing his job.

I sat on my bedroom floor flipping through one of my mangas although I really wasn't paying much attention to it. I was waiting for him to speak. I was desperate to know. The thought of Grell's ever mournful expression still leaves a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I was suddenly alert. Movement. He turned so that he was leaning on my window and ran a gloved hand through the crimson river of his hair. He met my gaze for a moment, the green eyes were even more striking for he had yet to put his glasses back on, and yet again he looked away suddenly, seeming sheepish.

"I'm sorry you had to see that," was all Grell Sutcliff had to say.

The night before:

A regular day. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least in my case. My mother might have words if she was aware that a shinigami paid regular visits to our house. Grell had been in an extremely happy mood the past couple of days, waaaaaaay perkier than ever before. At one point he got some kind of devilish idea and called me 'sweetie' which was just plain weird o_O Mostly I didn't mind, although I did get slightly irritated when he tackle-glomped me from behind, stole my phone, and then sat on me for a good two hours at least while he chatted away with a friend of mine who is also aware of the shinigami's existence. Y'know, shinigami are also deadly efficient texters? Well mostly…we are still working on Undertaker's texting skillz (those nails cause some extreme typing errors) but he is making fantastic progress.

But I digress, Grell was happy and this was a good thing was it not? Perky, lively, everything the redhead should have been. He had already been confined to my bedroom for the evening since my mother was home and I was chilling in the living-room on my laptop. Time elapsed as it tends to do and I popped upstairs to grab a book/see what Grell was up to.

I thought he had fallen asleep since he had already neatly placed his glasses on my bedside table, but no, there was still movement. Rarely does he move in his sleep and I continually have to remind myself that he does not have to breathe. I heard a moan come from him and he sounded like he was in pain. Was he…trembling?

"Um…Grell?"

He rolled over. I thought I might be sick. Curled up on my bed was not the ecstatic shinigami of recent days. Grell Sutcliff looked at me. His eyes blurred with a fresh flood of tears to join the rest already coursing down his face. I rushed to him,

"What's wrong? Did something happen?"

No answer.

"Please Grell!"

But my pleas were of no use. Even if he had been willing to speak, he could not have for he was sobbing too hard. My best bet was to wait until he got everything out of his system, so I curled up beside him, wrapped an arm around him, and waited.

The thought of a shinigami able to shed tears was a new one on me. Given the nature of their work one wouldn't think a shinigami would crack easily, or even crack at all, but here was my dear friend crying his poor heart out like he had just been dumped by his true love. The tears were obviously genuine, no question about that. This was not an attention seeking emotion. How do I know? Because I was the only one around to see him. One reason a young woman sheds tears within sight of someone is so that someone, who will more than likely be male, will sense her defenselessness and comfort her and rid her mind of whatever is troubling her. No men were here to soothe or fuss over Grell, only me. Only a puny, skinny little weakling of a human female was there to give a death god comfort? It is certainly absurd. What could a _human_ do for a reaper? We have many fantastical tales involving the love between a shinigami and a human….feh! Humans give themselves too much credit.

"I'll be just a moment, don't move."

I returned with a damp cloth. Grell's trembling had subsided and subsequent sniffs came along with the silent flow of tears.

"Come on now, can you sit up for me? Let's at least get you cleaned up. A tear-stained face is not entirely becoming of a lady y'know."

He sat up long enough to wash his face, and then lay down on his side again. He would not meet my troubled gaze.

I grabbed my brush before sitting down behind him on the bed. Grell loves the feeling of his hair being brushed; I knew this at least would get him to relax. I sat there brushing until the red shone sleek and glossy as it should, then continued with just running my hands through the hair over and over. The slow and steady movement entered me into a trance of sorts and it was some time before I noticed that Grell's breathing had ceased altogether. The poor thing was utterly exhausted and now adrift in slumber. Answers would have to wait.

I turned in early that night. I was tired myself from the shinigami meltdown in my bedroom, but more importantly: friends do not leave friends by themselves when they are down, even if said friend is asleep. I held him close that night and wondered what could have caused such grief to break forth from this reaper who always seemed to have such a cheerful disposition.

The last thing I had expected was an apology.

"You don't have—"

"I do. You have been through enough without having to put up with me too." Then he mumbled to himself, "_everyone puts up with me._"

I frowned, "You think I put up with you Grell?"

"Yes…no….I thi-" he sighed, "I really don't know dear."

"I see."

I had never seen the death god struggle for words before. The charisma and lilt had vanished from his voice. He sounded, in fact, normal which disturbed me more than the incident of the night before. No, normalcy did not suit Grell Sutcliff in the slightest.

"Why didn't you leave?"

The question caught him off guard, "What do you mean?"

"I know very well you have a home somewhere, because you told me last week you were thinking of redecorating. Last night, you could have left."

He shifted uneasily and pressed his forehead against my window. The long red hair slid forward to his right side. As he closed his eyes I saw a single tear slide down his nose. I had a feeling I knew the answer that he obviously did not want to give.

"Being alone sucks, doesn't it?"

Ah, that did it; Grell's eyes snapped open and he stared at me wide-eyed, "How?"

I raised an eyebrow and got to my feet, "Please Grell, I may be human but I am not a complete dumbass. You forget you are talking to a girl who lost her father barely three weeks ago and-"

"I am sorry about that…"

"No, I was not saying that to make you feel guilty. Stop being sorry for something neither you nor I could have controlled and let me finish; Dad is dead, my siblings have moved out, and mom has those weird work hours. I am more alone now than ever before."

He sat down dejectedly on the edge of the bed, "But…I….it's not the same, Taylor," he held his head in his hands.

"I know," I joined him on the bed and placed a hand on his shoulder, "You are also talking to a 17 year old who has never been in a relationship. Ever."

The edge of his mouth twitched, "You do realize I haven't been 17 in a very long time?"

"Well, yes but I can't exactly change that," I leaned my head on his shoulder, "You won't believe me right now but I can promise you, from personal experience, that things _will_ get better. Not everything is so bad. Don't forget I'm getting Lauren and Undertaker over here for Valentine's Day and we will have a blast just like we always do."

He nodded, "That will be…nice."

"Now tell me the truth: Do I simply _put up_ with you?"

"No."

"And why do you come here day after day?"

"Because you enjoy my company," he raised his head to look at me, "as I do yours."

"Which is something that still cannot comprehend. Let's face it, humans are about as interesting as a bar of soap."

That got a chuckle out of him.

"There now! Perk up, I can't bear seeing you so distressed," I picked up his glasses off of my bedside table and poked him in the head with them, "Will you put these back on now? I miss seeing them on your face."

He took the glasses and carefully put them back on. I turned him toward the mirror on my wall and rested my chin on his shoulder. Grell looked at our reflection for a moment and finally the wide, psychotic, toothy grin we know so well stretched across his face.

"That's better," I said, "That's the Grell Sutcliff we know and love. And you _are_ loved Grell, by many creatures whether they be human or shinigami."

The smile broadened, "You truly think so?"

"I know it silly; did you really need to ask?" I gave him a quick hug, "Now how about we both cheer up over a steaming mug of hot chocolate?"

"I'd like that," was all Grell Sutcliff had to say.


End file.
